


A Medical Concern

by well_gosh_sh



Series: Doctor, Doctor [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-20
Updated: 2011-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/well_gosh_sh/pseuds/well_gosh_sh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to have his prostate checked, and well John is a doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Medical Concern

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempted at fan fiction, so comments/criticism would be much loved! This has a sequel: Doctor, Doctor Give Me the News

Now this was just getting ridiculous. Sherlock wasn’t quite sure how much more he could take of this, because honestly, even though Sherlock has the emotional comprehension of a 5 year old, he isn’t as young as he used to be, which means he shouldn’t be getting off as much as he is. It’s like he’s a hormone-raging, sexually frustrated teenager again at the rate he’s been going at it. In the past four days alone Sherlock has gotten off seven times. Twice in the shower, once on the sofa, twice on his bed and once on John’s and one very memorable time in a cupboard in Bart’s when he didn’t feel patient enough to wait.  It really isn’t Sherlock’s fault; if anyone is to blame here it would most assuredly be Dr. John Watson.

What was Sherlock suppose to do when the good doctor came marching into his life with his ex-military patience and his knack for knowing exactly how Sherlock takes his tea, or his laugh (no, Sherlock decided, it really wasn’t a laugh, John doesn’t laugh, he honest-to-God giggles which really is the most adorably endearing thing he has ever heard) or that brilliantly stupid smile of John’s that makes his stupid heart burst into stupid butterflies. Really, Sherlock wasn’t to blame. There was just no way to not want John. And well, that is Sherlock’s problem, he wants John. He _wants_ John. Heterosexual, I’m-his-colleague, currently dating someone else John. At first the urge wasn’t all that bad; it was so minute that it couldn’t even be considered an urge.  Sherlock had just found himself wanting to be near John, which isn’t all that strange. John is a good person, very likeable and not as idiotic as the rest of the world. Plus he seemed to genuinely like Sherlock and was amazed by his deductions. This was fine, this was better than fine. Sherlock had finally found someone who thought what he did was brilliant and not freakish.

For the most part everything was good at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock still had his “black moods” as John so gracefully put it, but Sherlock found that being bored with John around wasn’t as bad as being bored alone. John still went to the surgery and continued to date Sarah (dull; she’s so plain and boring Sherlock couldn’t understand why John would ever want to waste time with her when he could be solving crime or watching crap telly with him instead). Everything was good, Sherlock was happier than he could remember, until one day it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to just be near John. Sherlock suddenly found himself wanting to touch John, more than the occasional hand brush that Sherlock allowed to “accidently” happen. Sherlock wanted to run his fingers through John’s hair, move his hands down his neck onto John’s shoulders. Sherlock wanted to push John up against the wall with his body fully covering John’s. Sherlock, having John trapped against the wall, would slide his hand into John’s hair, tugging a little, so he could angle John in just the right position for Sherlock to lean down and brush his lips against John’s. Oh God, just imagine what John would taste like, probably a mix of tea, biscuits and toothpaste and something else, something else entirely. He would taste like John, like home. Sherlock’s mind started to reel with how John’s skin would taste. Would his mouth taste different from his neck, or the skin stretching over his scarred shoulder? What would John’s hipbones taste like, or better yet what would John’s cock taste like, feel like? Sherlock’s fantasized about this many a time. After a case, adrenaline pumping through their veins, Sherlock would push John against the wall and snog him senseless. Truly and completely ravish him. And when John was panting hard, pupils blown and a flush across his face Sherlock would drop to his knees and ravish another part of John’s body. John would be hot and heavy and fully erect to the point of unpleasantness. He would beg Sherlock to finish him off, beg Sherlock to put his kiss swollen, red cupid-bow lips to his…

            “Oh for fuck’s sake” Sherlock moaned. “I cannot take this any longer”.

Sherlock sprawled further out on the sofa, letting his hand drop to his stomach and slowly inch further down until he reached the band of his pajama bottoms. He slipped his hand past the elastic band. At this point Sherlock was already fully hard and was starting to leak. He gripped his hard-on firmly, stroking with fervor, flicking his thumb across the head of his cock. His eyes firmly closed, trying to envision John doing this to him. John’s skilled surgeon’s hands gripping him, wrapping around him until Sherlock couldn’t remember how to breathe properly. Sherlock was so close, so painfully, gorgeously close, so of course it is at that exactly moment that his phone decided to buzz.

“You have got to be kidding me” hissed Sherlock. He could clearly see his phone lying on the floor from his angle on the couch.

 **NEW MESSAGE: MYCROFT HOLMES**

Yeah, there was no way that Sherlock would be able to ignore that and continue on with his previous activities. Sherlock quickly unwrapped and removed his hand, cleaning it off on his t-shirt before reaching for his phone.

 **From: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **Hello my dear brother. I do hope**

 **that everything is well with you**

 **and John. I just wanted to inform**

 **you that Uncle Octavious has had**

 **a successful treatment for his**

 **prostate cancer.**

 **MH**

 

Sherlock sighed. Couldn’t this have waited until after Sherlock had gotten off. No, of course not, Mycroft always had to ruin everything. Sherlock swiftly texted back a rather biting response.

 

 **To: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **Piss off Mycroft. As always you have**

 **a truly horrific sense of timing. And**

 **you know that family matters are of**

 **little interest to me.**

 **SH**

Now that wasn’t particularly true. Sherlock wasn’t the heartless bastard that everyone thought he was, well to be fair on occasion he could be. It’s not like he wanted a member of his family, no matter how insufferable, to have cancer and he certainly wasn’t unhappy that they had managed to detect it in time to implement a successful treatment. It’s just, well, that information wasn’t useful to him. It just took up precious space in that brilliant hard drive of his. What possible use could it be to Sherlock that his uncle has had prostate canc…

Oh.

Oh! That is brilliant.

 

John had just finished his latest patient, (when will people understand that anti-biotics aren’t always the answer), when he glanced over at the clock. Oh God, it was only 11. John sighed; some days seemed to be particularly trying to get through and today was definitely one of those days. John arose from his desk and stretched a little before buzzing in his next patient. John hoped that his next patient at least has something interesting to complain about. If he has to listen to one more complaint about a cold or a headache he was going to lose it. It is at these moments when John misses Sherlock, wishes that he would get a text demanding him to come home or dash off to a crime scene.

The door opened and John prepared himself for another boring session when to his surprise Sherlock walked in.

“Sherlock, what are you doing here? You can’t be here” No matter how badly John wanted to see him, he did have work to do. The bills won’t pay themselves, and John certainly won’t be able to when he has no job because of his demanding pain-in-the-ass flatmate.

“Can’t be here, don’t be ridiculous John, of course I can be here” Sherlock drawls as he plops himself down on the examination table. John sighed; he seemed to be doing that a lot today. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to explain to Sherlock why he had to have an actual job. Again.

“Sherlock I know you get bored but I have work to do. I would like to be able to afford the rent and food to eat. I can’t be your distraction every second of every day Sherlock. I do turn my phone off for a reason” Sherlock scoffed at this, _you certainly seem to be quite the distraction John, whether or not you intend to be_ he though.

“Well if you did not feel the completely unnecessary need to turn off your phone then I would not have to come in person to see you, now would I?” Another sign from John, he seemed to be doling them out today.

“Sherl-“

“Regardless, I have an appointment”

“An appointment? Sherlock you can’t make an appointment just to come and bother me at work”

“Oh please John, I would never resort to such measures” Sherlock smirked. Oh course he would. He’s done far worse. John grinned and rolled his eyes. “And I am here for business, not a social call. I have a medical concern.”

“A medical concern?” John blinked in confusion. It was Sherlock’s turn to sigh.

“Yes John, a medical concern. Was repeating me really necessary? You know how much I loathe repetition”

“Right, um sorry. It’s just that you have never cared about your health before, I’ve had to practically force feed you to get some type of nutrition into you when you’re on a case”

“Yes and that isn’t an experience I would ever want to repeat” Though, Sherlock thought he wouldn’t mind it so much if John did it again, but without utensils. Sherlock felt his stomach clench and blood rush down to his cock at the thought of John feeding him with his fingers. Hmm, maybe Sherlock wouldn’t mind John feeding him again at all. “Besides you always complain that I need to take better care of my health so I am”. John smiled his brilliant thank-you-I’m-glad-that-you-listen smile at that. Sherlock couldn’t help but smile back.

“I received a text from Mycroft earlier this morning. He informed me that one of our uncles has had prostate cancer”

“Oh Sherlock, I’m sorry! Are you alright?” John smile turned into a concerned frown. Sherlock really should not find that as attractive as he does.

“Yes of course I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be?” Sherlock waved his hand dismissively and continued before John could say that that was a bit not good. “Anyway, I thought that since cancer can be hereditary that it would be wise to get checked.”

“Yes, that is very wise. I’ll set up an appointment for you with Dr. Conroy, I believe he has some free spots open.”

“No John, I want you to do it”

“Me? Um, Sherlock don’t you think that that is a little intimate and well, inappropriate?”

“Intimate? Don’t be an idiot John, you’ve done it to complete strangers before and of course it’s not inappropriate, it’s your duty as a doctor” Sherlock turned away. “John, I… I don’t want anyone but you touching me” Sherlock felt a blush creeping up, this last statement rang a little too true for it not to be noticeable on his features.

“Um, Sherlock” Sigh. “Yeah, yeah okay. At least you are finally taking some sort of interest in your health.” John turned his back to Sherlock and bent down to retrieve a hospital gown. “I’ll leave you to get changed into this and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“There’s no need John. I refuse to wear those appalling gowns. I’ll just take off my trousers and pants, no need to leave the room.”

“Um, right, okay good. Just, um, tell me when you are done and lean over the examination table” _Christ, this can’t be happening_ thought John. He was sure that his face was already beet red, though really who could blame him. He is about to, basically finger fuck his self-proclaimed sociopathic flatmate that he might possibly be attracted to (oh who is he kidding, he’s head-over-heels for Sherlock, he’s just too damn gorgeous).

“I am ready John” Sherlock all but murmured. John turned to face Sherlock again with trepidation. The man was a genius, he can spot a murderer by the color of his shoelace or something equally as ridiculous. The man saw everything and John means EVERYTHING. There was no way that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to observe John’s body reactions to seeing him naked and God knows what Sherlock will deduce from that… probably the truth: that John wants to be more than just friends/flatmates/colleagues.

“Sh-Sherlock” John stuttered “W-Why did you take your shirt off?” This was too much, this was more than John could handle in a professional matter. Sherlock’s long, lean body was draped across the side of the table. Toned pale legs spread far, waiting to be touched by John deft hands. Sherlock was open and waiting for John, completely open and so very completely naked.

“Oh” Sherlock said dismissively. “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled.” _Wrinkled, really? Surely the world’s only consulting detective can do better than that_ , Sherlock reflected. Though the piss-poor excuse seemed to work, John just nodded and made a humming sound.

“Right, um that makes sense. So have you ever had this done before?” Sherlock sighed again.

“Well, medically speaking no, but I have had other experience in which I gathered knowledge of the sensations caused by, by well, penetration”

“Alright, good you know what to expect than” John cleared his throated and coughed awkwardly “Right then, well shall we?”

“Yes, yes of course. I’m ready John”

John pulled on a pair of latex gloves and slowly moved over to the side of the room. The side that is currently housing a very tense and a very, very naked Sherlock. The world’s only consulting detective is a giant, there is a lot to be naked. John takes the container of Vaseline, pops it open and lathers his gloved fingers.

John makes his way over to the table, planting his right hand next to where Sherlock’s side is for support. At this Sherlock nudged himself closer to the table and spread his legs out further. _Oh Jesus Christ_ , John glanced down to Sherlock’s stretched legs, _I didn’t think he’d be so damn flexible. If he spread out like that just imagine the sort of angles I could.. No, NO John H. Watson stop that line of thought right now or so help me God-_

“John?” Sherlock turned his head so that he could look at John from the corner of his eye. “John? Are you ready? You seemed to have stopped moving.” _Hum, and breathing. Maybe you aren’t as heterosexual as you claim, John Watson. I might have you yet._

“Sherlock” More awkward coughing “Are you absolutely sure that you want me to do this?” Sherlock squirmed and huffed impatiently. How many times today is John going to make him say that he wants him. John can be a bit slow on the upkeep sometimes but this is just getting absurd.

“Yes yes I’m sure. I absolutely refuse to let cancer slow me down while I’m on a case. And, John” Sherlock paused, he needed to find a way to put this so that it doesn’t sound like he’s about to confess his love. “I- I trust you… to form a correct medical diagnosis” There. That didn’t seem too pathetically romantic. John just needs a little boost to his doctor ego, then he’ll stop all this delaying and get to the good part.

John didn’t protest anymore. How could he with Sherlock stretched out beneath him wanting to be touched. John slid his left hand down to hover above Sherlock’s entrance. Slowly he circled it, and, after what seemed like forever to Sherlock (John was enjoying his slow teasing pace quite a bit, thank you very much) John’s middle finger finally dipped in.

 _Oh, oh that is good. Quite good. I was right, I’m always right. I knew that this with John wouldn’t be dull like with all the others._

John refused to be undone at the thought of his finger in Sherlock. His _finger_ in Sherlock. _IN SHERLOCK. No, no I won’t let him do this to me, I’m a doctor I can handle this professionally._ John pushed another finger in, as quickly as he could without hurting Sherlock, so that he wouldn’t have time to change his mind. __

_Fuck, Sherlock’s moving under me. Oh shit, shit buggering fuck god damn it all he’s moaning. Moaning and squirming. No not just squirming he’s thrusting. Thrusting back into me, oh god damn it. Shit._

Sherlock tried to compose himself; he truly did but John fingers were stretching him out, just enough so that he can feel the sensation but without the associated pain. _Oh god, oh my god, this is fantastic, oh this is brilliant. John is brilliant. He’s amazing and perfect and not at all dull._

“Oh” Sherlock moaned when John found his prostate, and caught it in between his fingers. “Oh, John. Oh my god John. John, John” Sherlock moaned and groaned and thrust back into John. This was perfect, absolutely perfect. A little longer and Sherlock will be in a blissful post-orgasmic haze. Just a little longer, just a bit more…

Suddenly John removed his fingers and took a few steps back. Sherlock didn’t even have time to react to the absence of John, it happened all too quickly.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. No cancer as far as I can tell”. When Sherlock turned around to face John, John promptly turned the over way. “So I’ll, um, be back home at around 5 or 6. I want to go to Tesco’s to get some stuff for dinner. So, I’ll see you then”.

Sherlock grabbed for his clothing and quickly dressed before John had a chance to leave the room. Clearly Sherlock had been a little too subtle with John. After that Sherlock never wanted to go back to just being friends and colleagues again. No this just made his urge to want to take John stronger. Once fully clothed, Sherlock thought that John would feel more comfortable that way, Sherlock loomed in closer to John and pulled himself flush against John’s back, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

“Thank you” Sherlock purred “And Doctor, if you ever need your prostate checked I would be more than happy to help you out”. With a quick nibble to John’s ear, Sherlock untangled himself and left the office.

oOo

 **From: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **Sherlock, I shouldn’t have to tell**

 **you how inappropriate and**

 **manipulative that was. Please at**

 **least try to control yourself. We**

 **do not want a repeat of last year’s**

 **Christmas dinner do we?**

 **MH**

  


**To: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **Oh piss off Mycroft. I am taking**

 **more interest in my health. You**

 **should be pleased. And you know**

 **perfectly well that that was not my**

 **fault. I certainly did not want your**

 **assistant shoving his tongue**

 **down my throat.**

 **SH**

 **From: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **You do realize that uncle Octavious**

 **is not a blood relative.**

 **MH**

 **TO: MYCROFT HOLMES**

 **That’s irrelevant**

 **SH**


End file.
